


Theirs - nonexplicit

by ElizaHiggs



Series: Age of Summer [4]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: After that elevator scene, F/M, No Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 15:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6055984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizaHiggs/pseuds/ElizaHiggs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they get to his apartment, he realizes he has no plan | After that elevator scene | Cho/Summer POV, stream-of-consciousness, NO SMUT| Smut-free version of Theirs (Part 3 in the Age of Summer series) for those who don't prefer explicit material</p>
            </blockquote>





	Theirs - nonexplicit

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scenes, post elevator scene in season 4, episode 14
> 
> \--
> 
> I do not own any of these characters

They finally break apart. The elevator isn’t moving; the doors have shut and no one’s left at this hour anyway to call the car. That’s why she waited here so late, she knows he’s the last one to leave, and she wanted to make her desperate case to him alone. 

Cho is looking at her, their faces still inches apart. He’s deadly serious and it’s more than a smolder; he’s positively glowering at her, like that time he tried to arrest her, like he is absolutely furious with her.

For a second she’s worried he might try to arrest her again, perhaps for sexual assault (could a cop make an arrest if the cop is the victim?) but then again, she’s certain he kissed her back. 

“C’mon,” he says, hitting the door-open button, and she realizes she’s been holding her breath. He strides off down the hall and she almost has to jog to keep up with him as he leads them out of the office and into the parking garage to his car.

He looks around, makes sure no one is watching them. “Get in,” he says, unlocking the doors, and she does, still trying to slow her heartbeat. 

“Where are we going?” she asks, when she thinks she’s back in control, but he hears the tremor in her voice. He turns to her, making a visible effort to soften. He leans over, lifts her chin and kisses her once, gently, on the lips. “My place,” he says softly.

X

When they get to his apartment, he realizes he has no plan, that he’s not thinking, just acting, like when they’re on a job, and someone’s pulled a gun, and there’s not time for conscious thought. Surely he didn’t intend to drive her home and pull her straight into bed; they’ve kissed once, for Chrissakes. He’s not even sure he has any condoms in the place.

“D’you want a drink?” he asks, pulling a bottle and two rock glasses from a cabinet. She nods nervously, standing with both hands on the kitchen island, looking around the apartment; she had been uncharacteristically quiet on the ride over. At the time he’d suspected she didn't trust herself to speak again, and perhaps it had something to do with his hand resting on her thigh, which she’d held in place as he drove, her hand over his.

“Scotch okay?” he asks, handing her the drink neat, he’s not much of a drinker and it’s all he has. She takes the glass from him and sips from it, and her unfamiliar silence is giving him pause.

He watches as she swirls her glass nervously and, dammit, she’s still looking at him from across the island like he’s a cop, like he might arrest her. “Hey,” he says, trying to be reassuring. “We’re not going to do anything you don't want to do tonight.”

“I know,” she says, giving him a genuine, soft smile. 

“And there’ll be no consequences either way. You can have your job back – ” 

“No, Cho, I know,” she cuts across him, and smiles again at his earnestness. “I know you. You’re one of the good guys.”

At this he downs his scotch, sets the empty glass on the marble, and strides around the island to her. He can no longer resist, and she’s still smiling and smiling, that wide grin that's driven him insane for months, as he takes her face in his hands and goes again for her lips. The kiss is gentler at first than the rough one in the elevator, slower. Her lips are soft, and he runs his tongue along her bottom lip, asking for permission to enter her mouth and when she allows it, he tastes the scotch on her tongue. She lifts her tongue to meet his, and he groans, and when she feels his fingers begin to slip under the edge of her top, she backs away. 

He’s breathing heavily and glowering again, but this time she merely smirks at his discomfort, finally back in control. “Mind if I freshen up?” she asks sweetly, head cocked to one side, as though he doesn't get her going, as if she isn’t already aching too. 

He nods and shows her the bathroom attached in a two-way to the bedroom and the living area, and she shuts the door behind herself and studies her reflection in the mirror. She shrugs off the juvenile denim jacket she wore for the sting operation – its innocence makes her seem approachable, helps catch men like Murphy when she’s out with the team. She isn’t exactly going for juvenile right now, she thinks. 

She had been hoping to find a discarded dress shirt of his in the bathroom, something sexy to throw over herself, but his apartment is – predictably – impeccable. “Panties it is,” she mutters, as she strips and removes the pins holding up her hair. She smudges her eye makeup a bit more, but there’s no hiding that horrible bandage on her forehead. Cho had applied it himself, from a first aid kit in his cruiser, and she had seen the look in his eyes, seen the way he looked at her, and wanted her. This seemed normal – men wanted her – but his determination to repress it was what struck her as so strange. At the time, she had thought, he was incapable of dealing with that and he had fired her for it. 

She’s still not, she thinks, entirely sure what he wants her for, for a quick bang or something else, but she knows she wants him, and she steps out into the bedroom. 

X

His back still hurts him, so when she awakes, he’s flat on his back and she’s nestled up to one bicep. He’s awake already, gently stroking the leg that’s stretched out across his lower body, and the morning light is streaming gently through his bedroom curtains. 

“G’morning,” he murmurs when he sees she is awake, and she takes a deep awakening breath, reaching her hand out across his wide pectorals. 

“Good morning,” she replies, and props herself up on her elbow and smiles down at him.

“D’you have anything for me to change into, or am I doing the stride of pride this morning?” she asks with her typical flirtatious banter, throwing the covers down slightly and making as if to get out of bed.

“Don't go,” he says softly, holding onto her upper arm, “I have the day off. Stay here – we can have breakfast.”

“Mmm,” she hums appreciatively, “Donuts?”

He snorts. “I haven’t been that bad since I was a teenager.”

“But you were, weren’t you?” she presses, with a little insistent nod. She’d heard about his past life, in inconclusive bits and pieces, from the other members of the team.

He pauses to consider her, taken slightly aback by her urgency. “A teenager? Sure,” he says, dismissively. 

“No,” she whispers, and licks her lips, “Bad, I mean.”

He pauses again and inhales deeply. “Yeah,” he says simply, and doesn't take his eyes away from her face, which has the little crease between her eyes like when she’s anxious. 

“But you stopped. You went straight,” she continues in a whisper, and he nods. 

“When I was about your age,” he confirms. 

She accepts this and leans back in the pillows, chewing on her bottom lip. 

“Except for now, of course,” he continues and for a second she’s panicked, thinking he’s somehow misinterpreted the kiss in the elevator and – everything after. But no, that made no sense. 

He sees her confusion and explains, “Summer, I’m still technically your employer. I’ll help you in any way I can, but we need to be discreet.” He leans over her and brushes a lock of messy hair from her face. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she says, smiling again, reaching up for a kiss. “Discreet. I promise.”


End file.
